


Libertango

by Shepromisedmenothing



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Cherik - Freeform, Help, How Do I Tag, I Tried, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 07:31:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5325863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shepromisedmenothing/pseuds/Shepromisedmenothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The school is empty, so Erik and Charles go to work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Libertango

There is nothing but the constant hum of the AC to welcome them when they come home.

The school is in a silent haze, common for this time in the weekend afternoon when each and every student is either taking a break from their studies in the brisk autumn embrace, or making recreation out of mutant abilities in new and rather innovative ways (The professor always approved of such activities; the children were still children, after all, and deserved to act like it, gifted school or otherwise.)

Said professor, along with his accompaniment, of course, are content with this. Silence is exactly what they came here for.

Ironically enough though, what they came here to _do_ doesn't quite correlate. Rather the opposite, the reckless thrash of their pre-fucking formalities possessed no appreciation for "serenity".

Their mouths collide like converging tidal waves, pants and drawn out breaths already resonating against the walls, the elegantly tall ceiling, the bedroom doors. And just like that, silence has long since met its expiration date.

See, it is not as though they aren't aware of the flat out ruckus they're conjuring- they know just exactly what they are doing. They've snuck away from the crowd for a quick rendezvous too many times for them not to know by now. And if they didn't? Perhaps they simply didn't care. But given that anyone could haphazardly walk in on them without forewarning, and possibly catch, let's say, a screaming Charles bent over the dining table with Erik plowing into him from behind, that's enough to get both men impressively hard.

Which maybe should have been shameful, but Erik has never been a shameful man, and the way he's kneading Charles' ass through the denim of his jeans- nice and thorough- as they lock lips, has the telepath second guessing his own ethics as well.

To think, that such consequential possibilities could make it, sex, all the more enjoyable.

"I suppose you won't be going easy on me today, Erik," Charles drawls, speech full of breath and flirt, like he knows Erik's intentions are to be rough- no, wants him to be rough, and is simply grasping for some type of confirmation. To be honest, he is very much plastered, and, had he refused at least one of the glasses that had been handed to him at the bar earlier, he might be regretting that he let himself be talked into drinking this early. Why was the older male so persuasive? Wasn't _he_ , Charles Xavier, supposed to be the one with a way with minds? Choosing to place fault simply in the way Erik could claim Charles' whole body with his eyes alone, with that certain killer instinct in his stare that said "you know exactly what I want, and I know you'll happily give in to me", he did not complain.

And really, how could he? With a man like Erik giving him sinful looks this close, piercing straight into his entire being, he'd have to be crazy to refuse.

"To my knowledge, you have never been one to appreciate being handled gently anyway. Why start now?"

And that is just like Erik, abandoning all reason, effectively doing as he pleases. Charles has to admit, it's sexy as hell.

They move from the front door to the hallway, nearly tripping amidst the needlessly extravagant rug that's placed there, and Charles can't help but moan as Erik frees a hand just long enough to call out a pair of metal forks from the kitchen, swiftly bending them with his mind to trap Charles' hands above his head against the nearest wooden door. He hears the sound of metal slowly jabbing into mahogany, more than likely creating holes that would certainly not go unnoticed by the rest of the mansion's occupants.

"...Erik." Another moan as the confines tightened. "The children are smarter than you assume, surely, when they return, they will wonder-"

"And you shall tell them that it was Logan. Which will certainly not be met with much surprise. Besides, children are naive, Charles. You don't have to tell them the truth."

Ah, that was it. The demanding tone that knew how to strike a command into Charles fearlessly, that told him what he would do and did not leave the discussion open for debate. It never failed to make the bulge nestled away in the tight cloth of Charles' boxers leak.

Still, there was no excitement in being docile; Charles liked to submit, but never too easily.

_And how will you ensure that I do so...Erik?_

The voice materialized as a blur in the back of Erik's conscience, most likely due to their moderate intoxication, but still managed to catch Erik slightly off guard, also due to the intoxication.

But even so, Erik was _damn_ sure sober enough to demonstrate the answer to Charles' question.

And it's not like he has to be sober to undress anyway; getting rid of their pants is probably the easiest part. In general, all that it took for Erik to get Charles, or anyone, for that matter, completely bottomless was a ridiculously effortless flick of the wrist, which of course brought down the zipper. And thank God for gravity, because it effectively worked out the rest. Doing exactly that for he and Charles' pants, Erik's cock, all leaking and swollen at the tip, sprung from the confines of his slacks.

_This. This is how,_

Erik thinks haughtily, in case Charles is searching his thoughts at the moment- which he honestly doubts, because this dick is the only thing the brunette really needs to be focusing on. And obviously he is, because the stunning blue eyes are trailing down Erik's torso now, shirt damp and clinging to the muscle beneath, and finally, _finally_ Charles makes it down to the main attraction. The professor shudders pleasantly at the sight.

Basking in the tremble of heavenly hued thighs, Erik hoists said thighs up on either side of his hips, consequently prompting his erection to brush up hot between Charles cheeks, and he knows in his mind that the heat of his cleft is merely a prelude for what is to come. Charles braces himself, wordlessly complying when Erik slips two fingers into that warm, vividly red mouth, one strong hand curling around the plump ass for support. Charles is withering now, cooing boldly between tongue strokes that are way more than willing to coat the fingers in a fine, slippery sheen. Erik can feel the desire, can practically feel the sex on his fingers, and can certainly see it in the half-clouded moons of blue beaming up at him. Purposeful or not, Charles' seductive eyes pitch upward to meet steely grey. He sucks on the digits in his mouth rather suggestively, eyes still locked, and Erik nearly comes from that little tease alone- he should get Charles drunk more often.

Yes, it's safe to say that Lehnsherr has never been a devoutly moral man.

Well, it depends on your morals really, and your definition of justice.

So Erik's fingers have all but gone limp at the mercy of Charles tongue, and it takes a good long blink or two before he can release himself from the optic trance. It's almost scary (but not at all surprising) how much power the telepath could leverage over him. What with those lips wrapped so beautifully around his fingers, Charles might as well be the one who is in control here, even without the psychological advantage that his gift provides him.

Taking back the reigns of the task at hand, the larger of the two men pulls out his fingers, as Charles is in mid-suck too, causing a flat out vulgar popping noise that almost seems voluntary. And if it was, god, could Charles be lewd when he wanted to be. Perhaps the vixenish ways left over from his infamous sweet-talk-ladies-while-shit-faced days have not yet fully left him. Good thing, too.

Charles whines, puts some strain on the forks a little, because he's just ready to _fuck_ but goddamn Erik hasn't even started stretching him yet.

Well, now he has. The fingers make a smooth entrance, wasting no time with formalities, no teases and no tricks. He goes in for the kill like he always does, positioning his fingertips so that they're aimed at Charles' sweet spot, and he knows it's location with assurance, with that distinct Lehnsherr kind of confidence that would never have been perfected had it not been for the very object of his current attention.

He hears Charles moan, not out loud, but in his head, and immediately takes that neatly shaven face by the chin with a less than amused glare.

No way in hell was that going to fly.

"Really, Charles. A completely empty house, and you’re going to waste your moans on the mere mental confines? Let it out, why don't you? It's not as if I don't already know how needy you naturally are."

And he may have muttered that last part simply for his own sexual sake, but he means every word of it. Really, in Erik's cocksure opinion, it would be a damn shame to let the sounds that he knows he can make Charles make, go silently. He's too proud of a man to let that happen.

Apparently Charles has made up in his own mind that he agrees, because his sweet lips part momentarily, no noise coming out. They tremble, then open again, producing a fuller open shape this time, and a sweet sound to match.

Erik's fingers dip in and out, following the pulsing rhythm of his own blood, and soon enough two fingers are accompanied by another, and Erik is just about to get on with it, get on with what he and Charles both are hot and bothered for, when he hears the front door crack open from down the corridor.

Talk about bad fucking timing.

Sure, the possibility of getting caught has always been a little thrill kink that the two men shared, but actually having someone, bless their heart, walk in on the pair about to fuck? Up against a wall- door, if they're getting technical- no less? That's an entirely different story. A terrifying one.

And so, in a flurry of panic to prevent such a nightmare, Erik's control on the forks terminate, causing the now defaced utensils to clatter to the floor, thrown aside like the discarded evidence they were.

"...my own mind. It's like, I've grown up now, I am ready to be who I want to be."

The broken dialogue floats from down the hall, and Charles knows the voice before he sees the face.

His fingertips tap instinctively against the curvature of his temple with a sense of fluidity that the professor has long since mastered, and Erik takes longer than he would like to admit before he realizes what Charles is doing. The brunette's lips are pursed as if in deep thought, rather than in the blatant pleasure of anticipation from before, and his diamond eyes flicker tensely in the direction of the footsteps. The sounds grow closer, dangerously close, and Erik is considering making a strategic commotion of the cars outside (the diversion would be worth the insurance costs, he thinks) until Raven, along with a rather placid Hank, come barreling around the corner.

Too late.

"I mean, I'm no child, I'm not some- some helpless doe. Not anymore."

Hank is nodding behind her, and awkwardly so, but the surprised gasp that one would expect when they come within range of Charles and Erik never comes. Instead, Raven keeps walking, Hank following suit, and if the professor weren't so breathless from previous actions, he might have expelled an exhale of relief.

He doesn't notice the slight falter in Raven's monologue as her voice fades down the corridor, neither does he realize how she glances over her shoulder with bewilderment, as if she's just caught a brief glimpse of something that isn't there. Hank asks her if there is something wrong, but she just shakes her head, resuming her stride almost seamlessly.

"You're good."

Erik is looking down onto him, lips drawn back to frame his winning smirk, and Charles can't help but to melt all over again.

"I am, aren't I?"

They tumble into the room in a fierce tangle of heat and lips and fingers gripping all over until they finally stumble over to the chess board- a few pieces of contrasting hues still scattered across the surface. Erik shows no hesitation in swiping it clear with his forearm, earning an almost disapproving scoff from the telepath.

"You must think yourself subtle. I was going to win that. You knew I was going to beat you, Erik."

"Yes, I did."

The mischief in Erik's response is signature and expected, and Charles is too charmed to further protest as he is lowered onto the chess board, back lying flat and flush against the cool tiles. It's a fairly large board compared to the standard, big enough to substitute as a side table even, and more than capable of being the desk that they hadn't the patience nor will-power to journey toward at this point.

Erik makes quick work of the buttons on Charles' polo, or at least tries to, because in the heat of the moment like this all those pointless holes and buttons seem unnecessarily complex. A hindrance to more important things, one might call it.

Finally, the shirt yields, opening up to rich, creamy skin that Erik knows is his to touch- so he does. He demonstrates his need through kisses placed all the way down Charles' abdomen, encouraged by the gentle touch of a warm hand fingering through the hairs of his crown. And then, _then_ Erik treads so tantalizingly close to Charles' sensitive zone that he hears a leisurely drawn out gasp that doesn't at all help tame the erection raging at his groin. Erik isn't normally one for teasing (that's Charles' forte) but decides to indulge himself this time. After all, they have the house mostly to themselves and it is not every day that Erik can take the liberty to ravish Charles like this- in ways that draw out lusty moans amidst the huffing breath between them. Like this, they're floating somewhere between the frameworks of heaven and reality, and Charles is suspended in what seems like a dream-like countenance that Erik can't help but succumb to as the urge to fuck this gorgeous man senseless devours him whole.

"Erik."

The voice is hoarse and light as the sultry air, thick with the essence of sex, swallows it up. Erik takes this as a cue that Charles has long since passed his well-defined limits and the teasing has him near wavering over the edge.

He holds Charles by the hips, aligns himself, and begins working the brunette with a mastery that could be mistaken as innate- he knows this body well. If the way he flicks his hips forward in wistful and precisely calculated strokes isn't proof enough, then it is the sounds of indecency that reverberate from Charles in a chain of consistency. It doesn't take long for Charles' back to arch with lovely composition, exposing lines and angles that Erik knows he'll never grow weary of. Soon enough both of them fall prey to the inevitable sensation of climax, and when they finally topple over the ledge, Charles mouths something with those plush red lips that Erik can't make out as the afterglow of it all overwhelms his vision.

_I love you._

Erik blinks once. That's all it takes for his eyes to crinkle at the corners, and Charles' are doing the same.

I love you too.

**Author's Note:**

> First fic in the fandom, woo. Feel free to leave suggestions or constructive criticism, considering I'm rather new to this. Do excuse the inevitable grammar mistakes and/or continuity errors. Thanks!


End file.
